The night was gloomy, and the clouds above were churning, as if it were about to rain.
"The Lightning Lord" Beric Dondarrion sat by the campfire, wiping his longsword. He applied a special sword oil to the blade, which was covered in rust—he knew this was likely caused by his frequent use of fire on the blade.
Despite maintaining it every time, the wear and tear remained.
He felt much like this sword. He could no longer remember how many times he had been resurrected; with each resurrection, he lost a part of his memories and emotions. Perhaps after a few more times, he might even become a walking corpse.
Recently, he did not know why, but Beric frequently dreamed of a person who claimed to be an emissary of the red god, R'hllor. The figure in his dream wore deep crimson robes, with eternal holy light shining for him and blazing flame clouds crowning him.
The divine emissary in the dream reached out his hands to Beric, as if to welcome him to the divine kingdom of his dreams.
What was most incredible to him was that it wasn't just him who had dreamed of this; everyone in the Brotherhood Without Banners had dreamed of it too.
Moreover, the figure in Thoros of Myr's dream was clearer than theirs; he had even seen the emissary's face.
And the figure in Beric's dream, having gone from blurry at the beginning to incredibly vivid now, also left him puzzled. "Could my master, the red god, be hinting at something?"
Suddenly, a burst of light appeared, startling Beric. The light was warm and blazing. In the light, a figure slowly approached...
"Get up! Everyone get up! Someone is coming!"
Following Beric's exclamation, the sleeping members of the Brotherhood Without Banners were startled awake, instinctively reaching for their longswords.
They watched warily as the figure in the light walked toward them. The man wore deep crimson priestly robes, with the flaming heart emblem of the red god, R'hllor, embroidered on his sleeves, and a high crown upon his head.
Flames served as a mask for him, making it difficult to see his face.
Clack, clack, clack~ Slow and powerful footsteps reached everyone's ears; the sound was as terrifying as a nightmare. Even though they were right by the campfire, they found themselves sweating profusely, and they tightened their grip on their swords involuntarily.
As the footsteps drew near, they discovered with horror that their heartbeats were actually in rhythm with the footsteps...
"Halt! Who are you?!" Beric Dondarrion finally couldn't help but shout. He noticed that as the person walked closer, the temperature here was getting higher and higher.
Others might not have felt it clearly, but as a loyal believer of the red god, he was extremely sensitive to temperature. Moreover, he also noticed that the trees around the person were slowly turning into ashes...
The person dressed in red stood still, sizing up the members of the Brotherhood Without Banners. Since its establishment, the Brotherhood Without Banners had grown to three thousand members, which could be considered a decent force.
"My brethren, I am Kings Hand Ragu. By the order of my master, R'hllor, I have come to lead the people of the world."
The man in red reached out his hands toward the Brotherhood Without Banners, combined with the dazzling radiance behind him, it was as if a god bathed in holy light had descended upon the world...
"Divine... emissary..." Beric was stunned. He stared fixedly at the person with his only remaining eye. It was him! It was the figure he worshipped so much in his dreams!
The figure smiled and slowly dissipated the flames covering his face. The face was somewhat aged but carried a natural authority, with white hair and a snow-white beard fluttering in the wind.
"In a world shrouded in darkness, there must be someone to guide them with light..."
A massive figure slowly projected behind him. Everyone recognized it—it was the red god, R'hllor!
"My master!"
Thoros of Myr instinctively dropped his longsword and knelt on the ground. His pupils were dilated, his smile fanatical, as he kowtowed repeatedly, shouting, "My master!"
He recognized him; this was the god from his dreams! This was the faith he had sought for half his life! This was his red god!
"My master!" The thousands behind Thoros of Myr also threw down their longswords and kowtowed continuously, shouting, "My master!" They were all believers of the red god; now that the deity had descended, how could they not be excited?
"My god! Beric Dondarrion will follow in your footsteps until the end of his life!" Ser Beric Dondarrion also knelt fanatically on the ground.
The scene froze here...
At the same time, in the tower of Dragonstone.
Melisandre, the red priestess who was kneeling by the flames, suddenly opened her eyes, whispering incessantly: "The long night is dark and full of terrors."
As a loyal believer of the Lord of Light, Melisandre was fanatical.
Melisandre was very beautiful. She had a heart-shaped face, and her red eyes emitted the glow of flames, flickering in the dark night.
She had long copper-red hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall, spilling down to her slender waist.
Her deep crimson form-fitting robe hung from top to bottom, reaching the ground, revealing her perfect figure.
The gold necklace inlaid with rubies that she wore around her neck possessed extraordinary magic; whenever she used her magic, the rubies would emit a dazzling brilliance.
By using various powders from the pockets inside her red robes, Melisandre could manipulate flames to gain power. She could foresee the future from the flames and reveal murderous intent from the shadows.
How many years had it been... Hundreds of years? Or thousands?
She could no longer remember clearly. Ever since she received the light of the red god, the Lord of Light, R'hllor, time had left no trace on her face.
Her name was "Melier" or "Number Seven"; she had forgotten that too.
She only remembered that after she escaped the red god temple where she had been sold as a child and accepted the light of faith of the red god, R'hllor, her name became Melisandre.
winter is coming, and the light shall endure forever.
The Wall, at Castle Black.
After a snowfall, the entire Castle Black was a vast expanse of white, silent and still, with only the cawing of ravens circling in the sky.
Jon Snow, Samwell Tarly, and the other newly recruited Nights Watch recruits all knelt with solemn expressions before the giant weirwood tree.
The giant weirwood tree had numerous exceptionally hard branches that twisted and turned, constantly reaching their arms toward the high sky.
The pale, semi-translucent branches at the very top received energy from the center of the weirwood tree, struggling forward, piercing through the thin clouds to emit a gorgeous red and yellow light. There was no greater miracle of life and time than this.
From afar, it was a sight of layered cliffs and peaks, with clouds shifting in unpredictable and treacherous patterns.
There was a weirwood tree in every castle of the Nights Watch from west to east, all of which had histories spanning hundreds or thousands of years.
It was said that no one could lie before a weirwood tree, for the weirwood tree was the eyes of the old gods, and the old gods knew everything and were aware of everything here.
The weirwood tree was also the weapon of the Greenseer; Greenseers could attach their spirits to the weirwood tree to monitor the surroundings and the distance.
Because a weirwood tree could survive for thousands of years or more, the Greenseer could know the past and present by perceiving everything in the area where the weirwood tree was located.
This weirwood tree had at least a history of thousands of years; legend had it that when "Brandon the Builder" was building The Wall, this tree already existed.
The Builder was named Brandon Stark, and his own brother Bran was also named Brandon Stark, Jon Snow thought to himself.
Two days ago, he received a letter from Bran saying that his father had been locked up by the mother-son duo, Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon, and his eldest brother, Robb Stark, had already led troops south to demand an explanation.
Jon Snow touched the dragonglass dagger in his bosom, feeling somewhat incredulous. In his impression, Joffrey had been very kind to him; how could he do such a thing?
Just then, a slight cough interrupted Jon Snow's thoughts.
It turned out to be the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, Jeor Mormont, who had arrived. Behind him followed a sickly-looking old man being carried on a recliner by several people; this was Maester Aemon.
After Lord Commander Jeor Mormont coughed, a man immediately stepped out from behind him and handed over the Mormont family's ancestral valyrian steel sword, "Longclaw."
This man was Eddison Tollett; he was a member of the Tollett family, vassals to the Royce family of the Vale, and also the steward to the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.
He was tall and thin, and not young anymore, with the roots of his gray hair already beginning to turn white.
A pair of dead-fish eyes held no emotion, his lips were thin, and his face was gaunt.
When Jon Snow first saw this person, he felt a wave of despondent, melancholy aura rushing toward him, making him tighten his clothes involuntarily.
Lord Commander of the Nights Watch Jeor Mormont politely took it with both hands, then drew the longsword and leaned it on the ground with his hand.
The valyrian steel sword shimmered in the reflection of the falling, cold, diamond-shaped snowflakes.
Jeor Mormont was tall and burly, but he was advanced in years. Having walked only this short distance, he began to pant incessantly; the hot air mingled with the cold mist, emitting bursts of white smoke drifting upward.
After he rested for a while, he spoke.
"My fellow crows, I apologize for using the word 'crows.' Everyone knows that we of the Nights Watch are called crows by the wildlings beyond The Wall. This is not a good term at all, and it even carries a strong insulting nature."
"But do you know why they call us that? Because they hate us and fear us. They have tried time and again to cross The Wall and enter the interior to plunder, but have all been repelled by us."
"I know most of you are fledglings who have never seen blood, and cannot even hold your swords steady. But what you will face in the future is the army of thousands of wildlings led by the King-Beyond-The Wall, Mance Rayder, and even the extremely dangerous White Walkers."
Upon hearing this, a burst of laughter came from the ranks, and even Lord Commander Jeor Mormont couldn't help but laugh.
"Very well, the legendary, extremely dangerous White Walkers."
Having said that, Jeor Mormont put away his smile and straightened his face.
"Now, you newly recruited little crows have met the conditions to don the black of the Nights Watch. I will reiterate one last time: those who volunteered to join the Nights Watch who wish to leave can leave now; this is your last chance."
"Once the sacred oath is taken, if anyone wishes to desert, they will be considered deserters. Deserters will be sentenced to death, and I will personally carry out the execution with this valyrian steel sword, 'Longclaw,' in my hand!"
"However, I suppose none of you came here voluntarily, did you?"
Jeor Mormont laughed: "Except for a certain brother who has eaten fine flour."
Hearing this, everyone cast their gaze toward Jon Snow at the front of the ranks; some were jealous, some envious, and some laughed out loud.
Jon Snow sniffled and said nothing. He was already used to being teased by everyone, and he had even established friendships with some of the new recruits.
Samwell Tarly, who was kneeling beside Jon Snow, tightened the black clothes that were a size too small; after all, given his physique, wearing this black clothing was still too much of a stretch.
Samwell Tarly thought the Lord Commander was talking about him, after all, he had really eaten quite a lot of fine flour.
"Alright, I will say it again: after taking the oath, a man of the Nights Watch cannot own land, cannot marry, and cannot father children. But you may maintain appropriate contact with your blood relatives, and you may occasionally ask for leave to visit family, but you must never abandon your oath and duty for the sake of family affection."
"Please remember! Compared to friends and family who are far away, the people kneeling beside you and taking the oath with you are your brothers! From now on, you will share honor and disgrace, life and death! This night, and every night hereafter!"
...
The clouds were thin, and the cold wind howled. The light was brilliant, and life was like a song.
Jon Snow and the others, clad in black, knelt here for a long time listening to the teachings. They gazed at the giant weirwood tree before them, which bore a strange, blood-colored human face, as the sacred oath was slowly spoken from their lips—
"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on The Walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Nights Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."